


Lazy

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Knight [29]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:25:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6710593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes slow and steady is the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poetdameron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetdameron/gifts).



It’s been a long day, and Kylo is tired. Not cranky tired, just tired. There’d been a lot in the training sessions, and he’s going to need a few days to process it in the back of his mind. He’s aware that the sparring took its toll, too (he’s not sixteen any more, and even though he’s kept on top of his physique, there’s days when things click or groan or take longer to feel right). So when they finish their routine for the evening, he’s surprised by Poe’s suggestion that they go straight up to bed.

“It’s early,” Kylo protests.  


“I know. But you’re tired. I’m tired. If we get ready for bed, first, we can cuddle and watch a holo and not worry if we fall asleep.”  


Which makes sense in a way, but also a part of him protests that he’s not _that old_ , not yet. He’s not even forty, for Force’s sake. But then another part of him thinks… _nice warm bed. Cuddles. The smell of Poe’s hair. Not having to worry about getting up to go to the ‘fresher and change out of clothes and wake myself up and then not sleep_.

He doesn’t take much convincing. Plus… well. Maybe it won’t just be holos.

***

It starts out as holos. Good intentions and the like. Something they’ve seen many a time as a kid, a classic, and nothing that needs much higher brain function to process. Fingers play with his hair, and tease love against his scalp. The rise and fall of Poe’s delicious chest, and the heat he emanates from that burning core within. Kisses, and he slides his palm over Poe’s firm torso as his lover drags a finger over his spine. He arches into it, and then the hand moves to cup his cheeks… his middle finger slipping lower to tease between the crack.

Still kissing. Unspoken promises, a lick to Poe’s bicep, a nod. They move and Poe gets the lube out, and Kylo cups Poe’s face in his hands to fuck his tongue into his lover’s mouth in sync with the digit slipping into him. In and out, in and out. The not-drag against sensitive skin, the lube making it glide like a hot knife through soft butter. He’s still a little sore in his thighs from the sparring, but he forgets that as Poe fingers him lazily. 

Bite. Bite and moan. Hands down and to Poe’s throat, thumbs stroking the gulping air from the outside. Forehead to forehead, hissing in slow, blurry bliss as he’s made ready. No hurry, no fierceness. There’s all the time in the world, and neither of them is going to get up and leave.

It’s a long time before Poe gives him a second finger. He’s calmer, less rabid, and maybe it’s just the long day, or maybe it’s no longer needing to hurtle headlong into everything. A bit of both, perhaps. He bites and suckles marks of his own as Poe splits his fingers wide, giving him something to work against. Poe is so beautiful when he’s concentrating, when he’s focussing, and Kylo watches his face with open awe.

Poe bites his lip when he thinks. His lower lip sucked in, his nose wrinkled, his eyes sharpened as if it helped him to focus. He looks so lickable when he does it. His pupils blow like exploding, dark stars and his breathing speeds up and Kylo drinks in every last detail. When he’s sure he’s been spread wide enough, he lifts a leg and arches up and over him. Poe squirms, moving to sit up against the headboard, and Kylo chases his lips for kisses. He grabs the board behind Poe’s head, and rubs his ass against the thick length rising up to greet him. 

“Want to feel you in me,” he purrs, looking down at his lover.  


“Maker, I want to _be_ inside of you.” Poe grins, and holds his cock, slapping it against the back of his thighs. “Want to be so far inside you.”  


“Do it. Do it, please.” There’s a tint of desperation in his tone, and then Kylo feels the blunt pressure of a cockhead against him. He bears down, thankful for the hand that holds Poe’s shaft in place as he uses his weight to swallow him whole. He feels the balls pressed to his upper thighs and _sighs_ at how good this feels.  


Joined. One. His eyes wander to Poe’s, and they share a quiet smile. Kylo doesn’t move, doesn’t want to. He can feel the full length of his lover’s erection inside of him, almost convinced he can feel the thudthudthud of his heart through the skin. He’s so stuffed, so nicely filled, and the heat in his belly slowly picks up. It’s still not the insane need to rut, and instead he feels hands stroking up and down his back. The sensation is pleasant, and he lets his eyes flutter shut as he licks a question over Poe’s mouth once more.

Over and over, kisses like conversation, fingers like promises, swaying like dancing. So deep inside of him, and the most friction from when he breathes heavily, or when their swaying edges up, to come back down again. It’s not about the end result, just about the closeness: he feels the Force wind through them, and bind them tighter together as they laugh at little itches and twitches. 

“You okay up there?” Poe asks, even though it’s blatantly obvious he is.  


“Yeah. You?”  


“You feel incredible,” Poe tells him, and his hands massage firmly over the muscles in his thighs. “I kind of want this to go on forever, and I also want to fuck you through the bed.”  


“We can do them in that order,” Kylo suggests. Which they so can. He’s feeling the flickers burn hotter, but he also wants to linger on this pre-plateau for a while. When it gets too much they normally lose all sense of decorum. All.  


Instead they knot their hands together and rest forehead to forehead. No swaying, just breathing. Just breathing until Poe can’t take it any longer, and Kylo rejoices inside that he cracked first. 

“Move for me,” Poe begs him.  


He doesn’t need asking twice. Up and weight onto his knees, then down and impaled back to the hilt. The lube makes it just the right amount of rough, and Kylo’s eyes glaze in response to the not-so-subtle nudge inside of him. He keeps it up, taking himself as slowly as he can, riding his beloved’s cock and loving the hands on his waist. 

Poe’s kisses stay messy and soft, like durasteel wrapped in silk. His licks and nibbles get less distinct, punctuated by gasps and moans and promises, and Kylo determines he’s going to make it as good for him as he can. Not a hand on his prick as he traces figure eights with his hips as he rides him for all he’s worth. Slow but **hard**  and **sure**. Fingers guiding him to move move, and he tosses his hair back in triumph. 

Poe. Losing it. Under him. In him. Losing his control, piece by piece. Kylo clamps his thighs around him and starts to move in earnest. He wants Poe to come first, and the knotted grip of his hair is a sign he’s so damn close. The way his jaw trembles, the hazy look in his eyes, the little half-snort and nod nod nod nod so much nodding, tiny nods, tiny promises, tiny questions and answers and forevers and Kylo tries to squeeze as hard as he can as he bounces over Poe’s lap.

“I’m gonna–”  


“Please,” Kylo begs, needing it more than air.  


“I l-l-love you,” Poe stammers as he spills deep within his lover.  


Spills, hot and warm and full. Kylo’s legs still ache, but the pleasure of it overwhelms the pain. A sense of completion, and then he feels Poe’s fist stroke his much-ignored cock. Tight and hard, twisting, pulling… the subtlety all gone in favour of the short, sharp shock.

“I love you, too,” he says, as Poe brings him right over the edge to fall down after him. “I love you, too.”  



End file.
